


Cabin

by thorduna



Category: In the Heart of the Sea (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon Compliant, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Sexual Inexperience, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorduna/pseuds/thorduna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sea journeys are long and the sailors have their own ways of coping.</p>
<p>  <i> “Come with me,” Mr Chase ordered him and Thomas winced inwardly. That was never good. He fumbled to get into his pants and hurried after Mr Chase into his own cabin.<br/></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> Um. No disrespect to the actual historical figures I guess? This is 100% based on the movie.

Thomas sniffled a little as he dragged the cloth over his arms, trying – and mostly failing – to scrub the stinking fluid that coated his entire body away. Whale oil was paid in gold back home, but out here, he was completely sick of it. His mouth still tasted of bile from the way his stomach heaved as he was dropped into the whale's head. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the disgusting memory.

 

An hour later, he was as clean as he thought he could get, his skin stinging from being roughly rubbed with sea water for so long. Starting to shiver slightly, he slipped down below the deck to retrieve his spare shirt and pants from the small bundle tied to the top of his hammock. He only just pulled the shirt over his head when heavy footsteps could be heard, thumping down the stairs and into the cabin. He turned on instinct, freezing when he saw Mr Chase.

 

“Mister Nickerson,” he laughed when he spotted Thomas. “It's been a while since I saw such a thorough sulk.”

 

Even though Thomas didn't appreciate being teased, he relaxed, his shoulders dropping. He admired Mr Chase but he could be scary when he was mad – and now he was clearly in an excellent mood instead. The whole crew was, really, morale running high after the successful catch.

 

Before he could figure out what to say – he was _not_ sulking – Mr Chase was tilting his head, expression changing from amused to contemplative.

 

“How is the rope burn on your hands?”

 

“It's fine, sir, thank you,” he murmured. It wasn't, really. It stung badly from all the salt and his skin was raw and flaming hot.

 

“Come with me,” Mr Chase ordered him and Thomas winced inwardly. That was never good. He fumbled to get into his pants and hurried after Mr Chase into his own cabin.

 

It was smaller and humbler than the captain's cabin, but it was nice to Thomas' eyes anyway – a cot at the side, small window, several books tied to a shelf, two large chests... he sat on one of the chests when Mr Chase gestured for him to.

 

“Your hands,” Mr Chase said, holding out his palm. Reluctantly, Thomas obeyed, placing his hands into the man's grasp.

 

Mr Chase _tsk_ ed and peeled away the dirty bandage, examining the wounds in the light of the single lantern which swayed on the ceiling.

 

“Hold on,” he murmured, leaning away to grab a bottle.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Take a sip and you'll see,” Mr Chase told him and Thomas frowned, taking the bottle from him and gulping some of its contents. He spluttered a little – it burned, but it was not the first time he ever tasted whiskey, so he swallowed, grimacing at how it tasted going down his throat, but enjoying the warmth in his belly. He was so focused on suppressing a gag that would surely make him look silly in front of Mr Chase, like he couldn't even hold a drink, that he didn't notice the bottle being taken away from him.

 

He cried out as the whiskey splashed over his palms. He snatched his hands back to himself, looking up at Mr Chase in hurt and confusion as he cradled them to his chest.

 

“What was that for?” he asked, spluttering.

 

Mr Chase laughed again, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Thomas tried to shrug him off, but all that achieved was a warning tap on the nose.

 

“It helps to heal,” Mr Chase answered. “Flushes the dirt out. Now, have another drink if you want and stop pouting.”

 

“But no more surprises, sir,” Thomas complained, but reached for the bottle anyway. He could do with a bit of warmth.

 

“None for now,” Mr Chase said quietly, an odd little smile on his lips. Thomas became aware he was staring. The whiskey was going to his head and while he was already somewhat used to the constant rocking motion of the ship, right now, it was not helping.

 

Mr Chase let him have some more of the whiskey, pulling out clean bandages and patching his hands up. Thomas stared at the tidy knots on the stark white cloth, the burns already aching so much less than before.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

*

 

The evening was quiet – too quiet, actually. There was little wind and the Essex rocked forward slowly. Mr Chase kept the crew working every day; they never fell into a true lull. There was always something to clean, to patch up, a training to be done, but the tension was there. The sun was just about to roll over the horizon and Thomas' duties were almost done. He had cleaned the captain's cabin, helped chop the vegetables and now all he had left to do was clean Mr Chase's cabin. He walked inside the small room, a cloth and bucket in hand, whistling lowly.

 

The whistle turned into a squeak when he was faced with the sight of Mr Chase sprawling on his cot.

 

He was _never_ in his cabin. In the past weeks, Thomas has only ever seen Mr Chase go into his cabin for a couple of hours at night, otherwise he was always elsewhere on the ship.

 

“I'm sorry, sir – I didn't realize you were here,” he blurted and Mr Chase raised his head. His tie and coat were discarded, his shirt open, baring his chest and Thomas felt himself blushing.

 

“That's alright, Thomas,” Mr Chase said, dropping his head back and draping an arm over his eyes.

 

Thomas hovered for a moment, hesitating. “Are you ill, sir?”

 

“No,” Mr Chase said. “Not ill.”

 

“I'll come later-”

 

“No,” Mr Chase barked all of a sudden, sitting up energetically. He didn't look sick – his eyes were clear and Thomas was shocked to see that he was being thoroughly inspected by Mr Chase's gaze.

 

“Close the door,” Mr Chase ordered. By now, Thomas knew very well when he could risk needling out favours from Mr Chase – the night they caught the whale was not the last night he tasted Mr Chase's whiskey – and when he meant business. So he hurried to obey, pulling the rough wooden door closed. The cabin darkened – there were several big lanterns hanging by the stairs and in the kitchen, but not here. Only the purple, dusky light streaming through the small window illuminated the small cabin now.

 

“Come here.”

 

He bent down to toss the cloth into the bucket and pushed it to the side with his foot, uncertainly walking towards the cot.

 

The ship rocked – nothing for an experienced sailor to even notice, but Thomas was so nervous that he lurched to the side. Mr Chase caught him – two strong arms grasping his hips and pulling him forward.

 

He landed, askew and very much awkward, over Mr Chase's lap and sucked in a startled breath.

 

Everything stilled for a second and Thomas waited, holding his breath. Either- either Mr Chase will push him off, light a lantern and give him some whiskey, or perhaps show him one of the books he kept in his cabin, or...

 

He's heard about this, of course. Thomas enjoyed hearing all the stories that would make the nuns in the orphanage faint and this, this has come up in shushed whispers too.

 

But he didn't know how he'd feel about it.

 

Mr Chase didn't push him off. Instead he wrapped an arm around Thomas' waist, pulling him closer. Thomas righted himself, putting his hands on Mr Chase's shoulders and squeezing his knees around his hips. He tried to quiet the rushed breaths that were tearing their way from his throat, swallowing down the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that filled his belly. He saw Mr Chase every day – Mr Chase pushed him here and there, he was even capable of holding him by the ankles and dangling him above the depths of the sea without as much as breaking a sweat, but to actually touch him like this, to grip the broad shoulders and feel the muscles of his thighs underneath him... Thomas was overwhelmed by the real presence of him.

 

“Alright, boy?” Mr Chase whispered, his voice raw and rough.

 

“Yes, sir,” Thomas whispered back. It was a reflex almost, to reply like that, but it didn't matter. Mr Chase was cupping his cheek, stroking his mouth with a rough thumb, and then hoisting him even further on his lap, pressing their lips together.

 

He didn't know what to do except to hold still and let Mr Chase do as he would. His hot breath gusted over Thomas' lips and cheek and it was not unpleasant at all. Then Mr Chase was grasping his chin between two fingers, pulling downward. Thomas let his mouth fall open and Mr Chase licked between his lips and soon, very soon Thomas thought he was getting the hang of it. It felt good.

 

Then Mr Chase's hands fell away from his face and slid underneath his shirt instead and Thomas gasped.

 

“You've not been touched before, have you,” Mr Chase murmured against his lips, rubbing one hand up and down Thomas' spine while the other was on Thomas' chest.

 

“No,” Thomas could only pant, replying truthfully even though he didn't know if that was what Mr Chase wanted to hear.

 

“Good,” Mr Chase growled, kissing him deeply again. He took his time doing it, and as pleasurable as it was, Thomas started to grow a little apprehensive. Should he be here? This wasn't right, was it... but it was _Mr Chase,_ and-

 

Mr Chase pulled off and tugged at Thomas' shirt roughly. Fearing the fabric might tear, Thomas tried to push his hands away, fully intending to take it off himself.

 

“Don't fight me, boy,” Mr Chase told him in a low hiss and a shiver ran through Thomas' entire body.

 

“I'm not!” he protested. He didn't realize how loud he was being until a rough palm was slapped against his mouth.

 

“Shh,” Mr Chase warned. Thomas just nodded, reaching for the hem of his own shirt. Mr Chase finally saw what he was trying to do and let him, then pushed him off to stand and started to tug at his pants too. Thomas stilled a little, uncertain, but one sharp look from Mr Chase got him moving again. He was embarrassed, standing there naked in the First Mate's cabin, but he did not have a lot of time to contemplate it.

 

Mr Chase grabbed him and pulled him onto the cot again, but this time not across his own lap, but right onto the hard mattress, belly down. Then he draped himself half across Thomas' back, half slotted himself between Thomas and the wall. Thomas was pressed down uncompromisingly and he gasped a little as Mr Chase's hand ran down his bare back and bottom, squeezing the latter lewdly.

 

Then Mr Chase kissed his neck and shoulders and that felt very, very good, even with the way Mr Chase's stubble scratched him.

 

Mr Chase kept touching his bottom and Thomas was a little worried again. He had only a limited idea about how it worked, when two men did it, and he heard some really scary things too.

 

“What will you do?” he asked at last when he heard – and felt – Mr Chase undoing his belt.

 

“I won't hurt you, don't worry, boy,” Mr Chase huffed and Thomas managed to turn his head just enough to see Mr Chase pushing his pants down his thighs and holding his cock in his hand. He felt a violent blush spilling over his face and neck – it was _huge_ and Mr Chase was _touching_ it and-

 

He buried his face in the thin pillow, squawking into it when something wet spilled over his bottom, and between his cheeks. Then Mr Chase hoisted himself more securely over Thomas and – oh God – Thomas could feel his cock slipping between his cheeks and between his thighs, rubbing there.

 

Mr Chase wound an arm around Thomas' chest, pressing him close. He was mouthing and biting at the side of Thomas' neck, breathing heavily as his cock kept sliding between Thomas' thighs.

 

“Push them closer together,” Mr Chase ordered with a grunt, and Thomas did, pressing his legs closer, feeling the hardness slipping in and out, brushing his own cock and balls. And he was hard, too, he realized.

 

Mr Chase was panting more and more, his kisses growing rougher, as did his movements. He was slamming his hips down onto Thomas' with frightening force and Thomas started to wiggle in his grasp, growing afraid.

 

“Sir, _please_ -”

 

“Hush!”

 

The thrust became frantic and Thomas' squeezed his eyes shut, bearing it. Then, after some time, Mr Chase rutted against him several more times and went still, hot wetness spilling between Thomas' thighs and on the mattress beneath him.

 

Mr Chase was breathing deep, hot breaths against the side of his face. Thomas protested weakly when the weight on his back became unbearable and Mr Chase lifted himself.

 

Thomas thought it was time for him to go, but Mr Chase held him, feeling underneath him. When Mr Chase's hand found his cock, he flushed again. Was he supposed to be aroused?

 

“Good boy,” Mr Chase chuckles, his voice relaxed and warm. “Now...”

 

He pressed Thomas back into the mattress, tapping his ankle with the tip of his foot to get him to spread his legs.

 

“While this was excellent, Mr Nickerson, we have yet many months at the sea before us,” Mr Chase said and Thomas looked at him in confusion. “So you need to start getting ready for something yet more pleasurable.”

 

And with that, Mr Chase ran his fingers through the slick mess between Thomas' legs and pushed one finger _inside_.

 

Thomas cried out, but the sound was muffled by Mr Chase's palm.

 

“Shh,” Mr Chased hushed him. “Just a little bit tonight. Relax and it will feel better.”

 

And he did just that, pumping his finger in and out while Thomas' worried the skin of Mr Chase's hand – he had not pulled it away even for a second – with his teeth. He couldn't tell how long it took, but when Mr Chase was satisfied, he pulled him into a close embrace, their chest pressed together, and reached down, grasping Thomas' cock and quickly bringing him to release.

 

Thomas buried his face in Mr Chase's bare chest, shaking and breathing hard, too overwhelmed by the entire experience to speak or move. Mr Chase let him stay like that for a long while, but then gently prodded at him to get up. Thomas used the long forgotten bucket of water to clean them both – Mr Chase helped and Thomas blushed again when Mr Chase caught him by the waist and ran the cloth between his legs.

 

Then he was dressed and it was time for him to leave. He could not bring himself to look up and face Mr Chase, but it did not matter. Mr Chase approached him, crowding him in the dark corner of the cabin, putting a finger underneath Thomas' chin and tilting his head up. He kissed him, lightly and pleasantly.

 

“You did, well, boy,” he smiled. “Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? You would only get teased.”

 

Thomas swallowed, staring up at the darkened blue eyes of Mr Chase. What was there to say?

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

 


End file.
